Paroxyisms
by Thenerdygeekyponders
Summary: Pain. Is the first and only thing he is aware of. Pain. Pain is him, life, existence. Everything hurts. He hurts. His limbs ache, his body protests that he is way past the normal pain threshold, his mind is reeling from it, and even his very soul throbs with pain. This a study of a bastard son. This is Adam Miligan.


_(Just something I've had in Word for awhile. I have a lot of feelings and opinions about Adam Miligan, okay? Okay. Anyways: not mine. If it was, a certain someone(s) would be out of Hell already .) _

Paroxyims

Pain. Is the first and only thing he is aware of. Pain. Pain is him, life, existence. Everything hurts. He hurts. His limbs ache, his body protests that he is _way_ past the normal pain threshold, his mind is reeling from it, and even his very _soul _throbs with pain. And it is light. Bright. So very, very, very bright. Like the sun, but even brighter. The light is indescribable and _everywhere_. It permeates him, his mind, his soul, and everything around him. _If_ there is anything around him. It claws at his soul, desperate and commanding at the same time. It is a familiar sensation. And there is a voice. A voice that is not his that is yelling and screaming at him, at everyone, at _everything_, in ways and languagues that defy description. It is angry and betrayed and hateful, this voice. It _hurts._ It hurts with a pain of betrayal as old as time. It hurts with the knowledge that nothing is _working_ anymore and _pleaspleasfatherwheredidyougo? _and _Whydidyouleavemewhydidyouleaveallofus? _

_…And he's fighting it. _Fighting this voice, this Presence with every non-breathing breath he has, because he is something, someone, who will not back down easily if ever. He grits his not-teeth teeth against the pain (one of the only _real_ things about this) and he claws just as desperately back at the Presence (the only _other _real thing). He will _not_ back down, dammit! He pushes past the light and finds that he surrounded by flame at the same not-time time. (He's experienced this _before_…) And this flame is righteous and merciful and…and _glorious_ in the way it burns. It is not ordinary or damned, this flame, it is _divine._ It touches and doesn't touch everything making sure to leave it's imprint that echoes love, mercy, righteousness, and…and something he cannot describe. But anger simmers at the bottom of the flames and it threatens to choke and consume all leaving nothing but _Black Emptiness_ behind.

Something whispers to him that _he cannot under any circumstances let that happen_. He takes the words to heart because he agrees with the voice even though a part of him _hates _it. Hates it because it reminds him of belonging then not-belonging and _DeanSamhelpmepleasepleasepleasebecasueohgodhe'scomeing _and of terror as light pierces his being so deeply and with such finality. So, he ignores the voice with a passion all the while agreeing with it. The other voice does not hear this small voice, and he wonders why.

But not for long as the pain racks him again and the voice is _screaming _and he's screaming _right back at it_. He's done this before, but for some reason the voice is always surprised when he does. It reels back, shock flickering like lightning, anger momentarily forgotten. Like every time he uses this to his advantage. Crawling, tearing at the light and flames (_ohgodithurts) _he pushes past the Presence and manages to claim dominion over…something. He's not sure what though. He can never figure out though, because the Presence is _fast _and always grabs him and attacks before he _can._ And as the light and flames engulf him and not-him and he notices how every time they are darker.

And like a switch being flipped he is suddenly aware that he is _not _alone. Not anymore. There is someone in here and not-here with him and the Presence. It reeks of something that he does not like. (Of whatever he _was_ or was _in_ when he grabbed dominion over the something.) Neither does the voice. But the voice is silent, sizing up the new someone and he takes a thankful, shaky not-breath breath. Then it attacks with such _ferocity _and _viciousness _that he is left breathless as the light and flames and the worringly ever growing shadow consume all three of them, because yes there _is _three of them he now knows. And it is getting _very_ cramped between them and all the flames and light and darkness.

…Pain. Is the first and only thing he is aware of. Pain. Pain is him, life, existence. Everything hurts. _He_ hurts. His limbs ache, his body protests that he is _way_ past the normal pain threshold, his mind is reeling from it, and even his very _soul _throbs with pain. And it is light. Very light and bright. And he is aware that there is _Someone_ else there other then the Presence and him. This person is in pain like him, but they grit their not-teeth teeth against it (Like he did once. But he's tired…_too_ tired to care anymore.) and _they yell right back at the Presence the whole time. _They match language for language, way for way, taunt for taunt. The Presence seethes and the Someone steadfastly ignores the consequences of what they are _doing_. He wants to warn them to stop because the pain _won't_ and the Presence will make it _worse_, but not-him him is too heavy, too tired, and _too_ _in pain_ to do anything. And somehow the Someone is able to _silence_ the voice like he used to whenever he spoke. And like him the Someone _scrapes_ at the flame and light (and even _bigger_ shadow now) in a manic _desperate_ way that makes him want to tell them _to stop because it's futile and nothing happens and it's not real unlike the pain __**he**__ will unleash. _Then the Someone stops for a beat and he wonders if he spoke aloud, but instead it turns _and grabs him and pulls them both up. _Because _up _is the best way to describe were they are going. Because _up_ leads them to the _something_ that is important to him but not.

And the Presence screams. It is like something from the bowels of the earth climbing and scratching and _grabbing _at them. (And it feels more and more _twisted _witheach attempt he has made _up_.) It's cry echoes within the not-space space and _tears_ at their flesh and souls with desperation he has _never_ felt before from the Presence. It speaks of a feeling that is tied to the betrayal as old as time. It does not want them to go because _he'ssolostandangryandsadandconfusedandfatherwon'tlistenorhelpandpleaseplease it hurts so much. _

He's crying not-tear tears for the Presence. He crying because he _understands. _It does not inflict the pain, because the pain he feels _is what it feels._The pain he feels is a _giant _feedback _of the Presence's pain_.The Someone seems to understand this now, but hurries _up _regardless. He yells at the Someone because _can't you see we need to help him? _But the Someone does not _listen_. So he yells at them until his not-voice voice is hoarse and almost gone and decides to cling to the light and flame and shadows (that have diminished) until he can make them see _reason._ Because the Presence needs his _help _and dammit, _can't you see he's the only one that can do that? _But the Someone hurries on regardles. He can feel the worry roll of them in waves as they scratch the surface of _up_. But he refuses to let the Someone continue. He will _not_ give up easily if at all. And the Presence is behind them with their (Yes, he now knows that these belong _exclusively_ to the Presence and are not where they are in the not-space space.) light and flames and shadow that has now grown _bigger_.

And the Presence somehow is able to embrace them once more. The Someone bucks and fights against it, but he knows that it's pointless. The Presence has a grip like _iron._

Suddenly he notices that the shadow is _not _a shadow but something much more sinister and devious and _there_.

The Presence and the Someone notice this too late, _too late_. The Presence attacks with it's flame and light. It merely _phases_ the no-longer-shadow shadow. Then the Someone is there with their _own_ light and flame that are far less powerful then the Presence. However thiers is _far_ more precise in how it attacks and slices and _cuts_ the no-longer-shadow shadow. The no-longer-shadow shadow writhes in _agony _as the Someone and the Presence attack together.

They cannot hold up _forever_, though. He can feel the _fear_ and _confusion_ and _desperation _and _pain_ rolling off the Presence and the Someone as they attack the no-longer-shadow shadow. He can feel a _Big Black Emptiness, _a nothing,from the no-longer-shadow shadow. He _wants_ to tell them that this is _meaningless _and that _you cannot defeat this darkness, _but _something_ makes him hold back. In a last burst of glory the Presence repels the no-longer-shadow shadow and pushes him and the Someone towards the seal of _up._

He feels the pain receeding as he and the Someone collide with the seal.

He feels the _light_ and _flame_ of Presence _dim _as a wall of impenetrable stone surround it and the no-longer-shadow shadow.

He is _gasping_ and _flailing_ as a new sensation overtakes him.

…It is like _drowning._

Like drowning in a large sea of new sensations of a body, heart, and mind _that will never stop. _

He is now _frantic _to retreat to the light and flames and even the _pain _in order to leave these sensations and messages his body, heart, and mind transmit to him.

He is vaguely aware that he is _screaming_.

_Screaming loudly. _

And he is slightly aware of an arm gripping his and a voice trying to soothe him. 

The voice is alien and weird because _he is not used to this. _

He is used to _Grace_ and _Soul _and of the finer messages transmitted in ways that are not fully described by…by _language. _

_… Language_ feels like a dirty word and it is cumbersome to his mouth. Syllables donnot always form words and words donnot always form coherent phrases or sentences.

The voice does not mind and talks to him continuously as he shakily stands for the first time. No, not his _first_ but it _feels_ like it.

He blocks out the voice's words and he is able to decipher that the voice is familiar.

Then he realizes _that the voice is the Someone._

He sharply turns to find eyes starting at him with concern.

He finds that the Someone is not fully human but not what the Presence was-_is_ either.

Tentatively he reaches out with not-him him (He's not sure how he pulls off but it works, so yeah.) and the Someone answers with their own not-them them.

He find them speaking to him in thier not-their voice, and their normal voice.

"_You are Adam."_ Is what they say.

_No, he is Adam __**and**__ Michael and _**_not_**_ Adam and Michael. _

And then Adam _remembers._

FIN 


End file.
